


We Can't Even Make Up First

by helens78



Series: Trip Stumble Fall [1]
Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Breathplay, Doomed Relationship, Fight Sex, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-19
Updated: 2010-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:01:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't about the makeup sex; it's about fighting and having sex at the same time.  Ray pushes for something more, and Fraser struggles with the urge to take more than he's being given.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Can't Even Make Up First

Fraser doesn't know how they got to this point when they started with pizza, but Ray's shouting and Fraser's shouting back, and now that they're here it's the same fight as always.

"You always gotta be right, it's always you being right and me being fucking stupid--"

"I don't think that, I've never thought that, would you stop telling me what I think?"

"Well, why the fuck not, it's not like _you'll_ tell _me_ \--"

"I talk to you all the time! I tell you everything, I tell you more than I've ever--"

"You still don't fucking trust me!"

"Of course I trust you, I _love_ you--"

"You can't trust anybody you love and you know it!"

"And there you are again, telling me what I think and what I know--"

"You want me to shut up, you can _make me_ \--"

This time around Fraser doesn't even get around to thinking that he shouldn't--he just grabs Ray by the shirt and yanks him forward, crushing his mouth to Ray's. Ray puts his hands in Fraser's hair and starts kissing him back, biting at his mouth between the kisses, and Fraser feels something inside him tighten, desperate for release, and he grabs Ray by both wrists and yanks him away.

"Yeah?" Ray pants, fingers clutching at air now, tightening against nothing. "Yeah?"

"Stop this," Fraser says roughly, shoving Ray back, letting go of Ray's wrists as Ray slams into the opposite kitchen counter. Ray doesn't take the hint, though; he just comes right back at Fraser, grabbing _his_ shirt this time, pinning him against _his_ counter.

Fraser reaches up and tears at the front of Ray's shirt, and the buttons all come loose, scattering against the floor. Ray gasps out loud and starts pulling Fraser's henley out of his jeans. "Right here," Ray pants. "Right here, right here..."

But Fraser can't do it, not here, not like this. He grabs Ray by the--he means to grab Ray by the hair, but Ray jerks back unexpectedly, and Fraser's hand brushes against Ray's throat and Ray moans and shoves forward, and his throat's in Fraser's hand, his throat is _in Fraser's hand_.

"Do it," Ray whispers, and Fraser squeezes--gently, so gently, but it's enough to make Ray gasp and clutch at him and then go perfectly still, for the first time Fraser can remember.

"Ray," Fraser whispers, and he breaks, a little, when he says it, but--he can't--he just can't stop now, can't pull away, and only when Ray puts his hand on Fraser's arm and starts backing slowly into the living room does Fraser even breathe.

Ray keeps Fraser's hand on his throat all the way to the couch, but that's as far as they can make it. Fraser shoves Ray down roughly, bending him over the back of the couch, and Ray tries to get his jeans undone, but Fraser doesn't want him to help. Not tonight.

"Just be still," he whispers, and Ray nods and clutches at the couch cushions, spreading his legs wide--then wider, and oh God, Fraser wants him so badly his hands are shaking.

"Stay here," Fraser says, voice rough. Ray just tightens his grip on the cushions, his knuckles going white. It takes Fraser only a few seconds to go to the bedroom for the condoms and the lube, and when he gets back, Ray's just how he left him, standing stock still and waiting. Waiting for whatever it is Fraser wants to do to him.

Which is--he's wrong, they're both wrong, this isn't what Fraser wants, he wants flowers and circuses and horseback rides and anniversary dinners and--

"Come on," Ray growls. "Don't you fucking leave me hanging--"

Fraser closes his eyes just for a moment, and when he gets them open again, all his thoughts of flowers and horseback rides are gone. There's just Ray, just the two of them and this desperate, fierce anger between them.

He reaches around Ray and undoes Ray's jeans, then grips his jeans and his boxers and pulls them all the way down to his ankles. It restricts the amount to which Ray can spread his legs, but that's almost not important aside from how wanton and obscene Ray looks when he does it. Ray looks perfectly wanton and obscene now--shirt ripped and hanging open, hands tense, pants down, ass bared, bent over, and Fraser's quick with the lube, quick to get him ready. Even that brief touch makes Ray growl with impatience, but that's fine, now; Fraser is impatient, too.

He puts a hand on Ray's hip and thinks about just doing it--just fucking him, this way, bare, no condom between them. He wants it so badly his vision actually swims for a moment; he wants to _fill_ Ray, wants to mark him from the inside out.

"Ray--"

"Hurry, goddamnit--"

"Can I--without, can I--"

Ray's head whips around, and his eyes are wide. "What, without _what_ , with--are you fucking _crazy_ \--"

Which means no. Again. In spite of the fact that there's no one else for Fraser, that there's never going to be anyone else for Fraser if he can help it, in spite of the fact that there's been no one else for Ray since the first night Fraser pressed inside him and whispered out--

\--he meant to say _I love you_ , that first time, but afterwards, thinking back on it, what he actually said was _mine_. Oh, there was _I love you_ , too, but it was later, it was after, while Ray shook in his arms and clutched him tightly; during, he said _mine, mine, Ray, God, mine_. Not that Ray argued.

But fine, _fine_ \--if it's a no, then it's a no--and so Fraser tears open the condom packet and rolls the latex sheath over his cock, and he grabs at the back of Ray's shirt and shoves into him, roughly, making Ray cry out as he opens Ray up.

"There," Fraser growls. "Is that what you wanted?"

"I--ah, God--yeah--harder," Ray pants. "God, please, yeah--"

Fraser gives it to him. Fraser gives it to him and manages all of four punishing strokes in before he has to stop pretending he's doing it for _Ray_. Ray flails one arm out behind him, reaches for Fraser's hand, and at first Fraser thinks Ray wants to hold hands while they do this, that he wants the support, but--

\--but then Ray jerks Fraser's arm forward, and he wraps Fraser's fingers around his throat.

Fraser grips Ray's throat hard, so hard, so tight--he has to, he needs to hold on to _something_ or he'll come _right now_. But when Ray starts struggling, starts taking labored breaths under Fraser's grip, Fraser lets him go.

Only Ray doesn't let him. He shoves Fraser's hand right back into place.

This time Fraser takes the opportunity to explore. He rubs his fingers up and down along Ray's throat, tracing the long warm line of it, feeling Ray's stubble against his palm. He positions his fingers and his thumb carefully, avoiding the arteries, cupping Ray's windpipe, and he presses down again, giving Ray a few shallow thrusts at the same time. Ray thrashes underneath him, and Fraser can't tell if he's fighting for air, fighting for a harder fuck, what he could possibly want--but he lets Ray have a breath anyway, just one harsh gasp. As soon as Ray's taken it, Fraser gets his hand tight against Ray's neck, _tight_ , and he fucks Ray as hard as he can, as hard as he _needs_ to, until he's groaning in broken, desperate tones above Ray's back and coming deep inside him.

He finally lets Ray's throat go when it's done, and Ray's panting just as harshly as Fraser is. Fraser reaches down to Ray's cock only to find that there's no need--Ray came all over the back of the couch. The mess is quite considerable.

Fraser backs away slowly, and when Ray turns around, his neck is livid red, the handprint evident against his skin. It fades as Fraser watches, red slowly disappearing, and Ray rubs his hands over his face.

"Bed?" Ray croaks.

"Yes," Fraser tells him, and the two of them strip out of the rest of their clothes, leaving them on the living room floor, and stumble off to bed. Fraser takes a half-second to dispose of the condom and wipe himself clean with a towel, and even that has Ray glaring at him when he comes back to bed--but the glare disappears, thank God, as soon as Fraser's curled up next to him, and Ray lets Fraser spoon up behind him and hold him close.

"You know, right?" Ray whispers. "That I--"

"I know," Fraser whispers, pressing his face to the back of Ray's neck. "I love you, too."

Ray exhales hard through his nose, but eventually he nods, working so hard at relaxing that it feels like he's forcing himself to relax. "Yeah," he says, finally. "Yeah. I love you."

It should feel right. It should make the rest of the night okay for both of them. Instead, Fraser stays awake for a long time, eyes wide open, and he's not sure if Ray falls asleep for hours, either.

 _-end-_


End file.
